Lighthouse in the Night
by Dragon's Daughter 1980
Summary: She sacrificed herself to save her people.  Now it's time to bring her home.
1. Chapter 1: Lost

Lighthouse in the Night

By Dragon's Daughter 1980

Disclaimer: Stargate: Atlantis and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story was created for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement is intended. In other words, other than being a fan, I have absolutely _nothing_ to do with Stargate: Atlantis in _any_ way, shape or form.

Author's Note: Unfortunately, I've only been able to occasionally watch SGA, so I am not completely sure about canon. I should probably also mention that most of my information comes from reading posted transcripts at Gateworld (and I haven't read all of them…yet.) Although this story will be AU, I do like to stay close to canon as possible when possible. So please excuse any of my errors (drop me a note via review). Thank you!

Spoiler Warning: _Adrift_ & _Lifeline_

Chapter One: Lost

* * *

There was nothingness, darkness so complete and hopeless that she knew she was gone. Lost. Forfeit. Acceptance. Whirlwinds of power tore through her, scattered her to the emptiness, made her nothing, worthless. Tidal waves of images and emotions flashed through her mind — choice — determination — a soft-spoken man with clear blue eyes — compassion — grief — second chances— two men in blue chattering excitedly, thrilled by debate and discovery — regrets — triumphs — a livid man, standing too close, voice furious and threatening — resolve — exasperation — a woman, soft smile, gentle words, warrior and leader — blush — a kiss — a career soldier, straight-laced commander — sacrifice — panic-stricken soldiers, still holding firm against impossible odds — arrogance — loss — a room bathed in soft blue light — a towering man, few words, unspoken vows and scars — anxious scientists, fear and anger in their eyes — sweet nothings whispered — anger and doubt — green light on gray steel — rage — how natural cold metal felt — a rising moon over water — his charming smile — sparks and ricochets — promises made — prayers — pain — red — relief — death— hope — horror — black —

* * *

The faint, familiar smell of pine mixed with a salty sea breeze drifted over her, accompanied by the soft murmur of voices not too far away from her bedside. She strained to hear the quiet conversation, but only caught snatches of a man's familiar brogue and a woman's Midwestern inflection — "signs of hemorrhaging" "regain consciousness" "Dr. Keller upgraded" "nothing more" "permanent damage" "only time will" 

"Carson?" another familiar voice, closer this time, spoke. A hand wrapped around one of hers, squeezing her fingers gently and images — too fast to see clearly — flittered through her mind. A hospital room. A bed. A corridor. Weapons. Lies. Fear. A man, with dark hair and a charming smile, urging her to fight, and his voice, angry, determined, soft, kind, teasing, everything. Her head hurt to think. "Carson, I think she's waking up."

There were hurried footsteps and then fingers settled gently on her wrist before, "I think it's too soon, John. Given the extent of her injuries…" The hand slipped away and someone brushed their fingers gently across the skin of her cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. There was soft beeping and rhythmic hissing that came and went in her notice, a soothing background, yet vaguely disturbing at the same moment.

"She'll wake up." The man's voice...his voice invoked in her this knowledge of unquestionable safety in his presence and this sheer infuriating stubbornness to do what he thought right regardless of what she thought, yet it also made her want to smile and laugh. Ghostly pressure of lips against lips, hands caressing, shy grins, skin against skin, confessions in the dark. She cared for him, deeply, maybe a little too much, but she did and didn't care at the same time. Now, in his voice, she heard his unwavering faith in her, and hidden away underneath his words was a prayer that she would survive. For him, she knew she would fight to live, just as he did for her.

"Aye, she's a fighter, but it will take time." She heard the first man sigh quietly. "John, get some rest. I'll stay with her. No arguments or I'll sedate you. She would want you to look after the city until she gets back on her feet. Go."

She felt the hand reluctantly let go of hers and she wanted to beg, cry out for him to stay, to anchor her. The darkness swept in and she screamed in silent terror as nothingness surrounded her again and she drifted away.

* * *

"—her vitals are falling."

"Keep her breathing. I need—"

"Damn it! She's bleeding out —"

"— room ready."

"Where's—"

* * *

Pain.

It was her only constant companion. It shadowed her, stalked her every breath and pounced on her every movement. It was a relentless hunter and she was its helpless prey. She whimpered quietly when someone's small hand settled on her arm.

"Shh," a childish voice soothed quietly, "Grana will be back soon."

The sound of shuffling feet and a cane on a dirt floor approached. The hand disappeared and she whimpered again in pain at the sound of a wooden stool being knocked over. There was a disappointed 'tsk from someone and then, "Is our patient awake?"

"Yes Grana," said the child respectfully. "I think she is."

"Either," the gravelly-voiced woman lectured, "she is or she isn't. She cannot be both. Now," A leathery hand touched her forehead, "her fever's broken. Feel her skin, and see what it should look like."

"Her cheeks still look red," said the child, confusion evident in his tone.

"It is a healthy hue," replied Grana. "Take note of it. Not all of your patients will be this fair-skinned, but you must learn the signs for them as well. Now, then, are you awake? If you are, open your eyes, child."

Unable to disobey the command, she pried her eyes open to see the world around her. She was in a dimly-lit wooden hut, resting on a woven cot under soft blankets.

"Ah, good," said the woman in a satisfied tone, and she carefully turned her head to her left, valiantly trying to ignore the pain pounding in her head. A young boy, no more than ten, hovered behind an elderly woman who sat on a wooden stool. The woman beamed, "It is good to see you awake, child. Water, Benji, go fetch water."

The child took off, out of sight. She swallowed, tasting the coppery taste of blood in her mouth and licked dry lips. The old woman picked up a carved cup from a small table as Benji returned at a run, water slopping over the edge of a bucket. She watched as Grana scolded the child for his haste and dipped the cup into the water.

The cold liquid was a relief to her parched throat and she drank as much as she could before the cup was taken away from her. Benji sat behind her, his thin frame keeping her upright and steady.

"Not so much," said the healer, setting the half-full cup down on the table. "Remember, water must be given sparingly to your patients. Too much will do more harm than good. Now," the elderly woman addressed her remarks to her again, "do you know who I am?"

She shook her head, and her fingers gripped the edge of the pallet as if she could stop the world from swaying around her. _That wasn't a good idea. _Grana sighed wearily, but kept her voice calm, "That's all right. Do you know where you are from?"

Spiraling towers of incandescent metal, rising from the ocean. Graceful arches and sweeping ocean views. A silver railing. Hands. Secrets.

"I—I'm not sure," she said hoarsely, surprised by how weak she sounded. _Home._

_Atlantis._ She stubbornly closed her lips, swallowing the word from existence. _You can't tell._

The woman nodded wisely and picked up a syringe and small glass bottle — both looked oddly out of place in this setting. Underneath the pain, alarm began to rise in her. Something was not right.

"I see," the healer said in a calm voice. "You remember nothing, nothing at all?"

"No," she whispered, unable to tear her eyes away from the other woman's hands as she worked. The bottle…something was not right with its contents.

"That is all right. Are you in pain?"

"A little," she answered, the words slipping out of her as she watched the syringe being filled with the strange silver liquid. It seemed to have a light of its own, sparkling as it swirled and twisted in the syringe. Medicine, she remembered seeing before— _before when?_ — didn't shimmer like that.

"That can be taken care of."

As the needle pierced her skin, she saw silver bits of metal suspended in water —nanites, clusters of nanites by the hundreds of thousands of being injected straight into her bloodstream. She screamed and tried to pull away, pushing, clawing, shoving, anything to get —

A vise closed around her chest — she could feel her heart frantically trying to beat and failing — and froze her hysterical movements. Her mind struggled for control, but to no avail, her screams unheard and so she helplessly watched as thousands of nanites flooded her, taking over her mind and body. Her muscles suddenly relaxed and she collapsed against her pallet, unable to move. Her eyes wide open, she stared up at the hatched ceiling of the hut as the nanites within began to kill her, bit by bit.

She longed for darkness as pain became her world and her solitary existence.

* * *

"—can't bind her."

"Screw the Council's—"

"—she'll die!"

"—I'll take responsibility—"

"We're losing her!"

* * *

Blinding light surrounded her, flooding her with calm, washing away her terror, but not the pain. No, the pain was still there, still overwhelming, but endurable in the breath. Warmth cradled her, like a mother's embrace, firm but gentle.

"Chose, child."

She turned in the brilliance, searching for the voice. It seemed familiar, comforting…safe. But there was nothing to be seen, nothing beyond the golden light that bathed her vision. 

"Chose what?" she asked. It felt like a logical question.

"Chose."

* * *

"Do it."

* * *

Pain coursed through her again.

Fear followed and she forced her eyes open to see — half to find relief that she still had control over herself. Or was this yet another dream, another delusion before she died? She wanted desperately to stop fighting, but knew she never could.

A smooth white ceiling greeted her sight and a warm hand slipped into one of hers. She turned, her heart seizing in fear of the old healer, and then stopped altogether for a moment. She choked, and tasted copper in her mouth, but she swallowed it, trying to fight down her shock.

"Carson?" she whispered, disbelief coursing through her. He smiled benevolently at her and squeezed her hand. She reached out to touch him with her other hand, ignoring the pain that came from rolling on her side. His arm was warm and solid under her fingers. He was alive.

"It's going to be fine, Elizabeth," he reassured her softly, touching her shoulder before he reached up to touch her face and wipe away her tears. "You're going to be fine." Footsteps approached and someone gasped quietly in shock.

"Carison, you shouldn't be here!"

"Talia, take him back to his rooms," a brisk voice ordered. "He shouldn't be here. Not now."

"No," she gasped hoarsely, weakly clinging to his hand before masked figures with gloved hands swarmed around them and gently, but firmly broke her grip and pushed her back against the bed. She saw him being guided out of the room, out of her sight and reach, and anger and protectiveness surged in her. No! She wouldn't lose him again!

"Gentle, gentle!" one of them scolded angrily as they prevented her from following him. "I don't want to make her condition worse. How's her — keep her down!"

Gentle hands restrained her, and she struggled against them, ignoring the pain that coursed through her body at the pressure applied to unhealed injuries, bruises and broken bones. She gasped for air that suddenly wouldn't come and her frail body betrayed her as she collapsed back against the bed, her fight now to survive and to struggle against the darkness that encroached on her.

"It's all right," someone soothed gently, pushing firmly down on her shoulders with both hands. Calm grey eyes met hers. "Just relax." The person looked away and demanded sternly, "Where's the vent?"

Twisting her head away from almost-rough hands, she saw one of them slip the needle of a filled syringe into her arm and empty its contents into her bloodstream. Somehow, she found it within herself to scream. Almost immediately, she felt cold, as if she had been plunged into a pool of ice water. Desperately, she struggled to string her thoughts into coherency, to plead for them to let her go, but her body refused to obey her mind's frantic commands.

"It's in."

Someone grabbed her chin and forced her to look upwards while someone else pried open her mouth. She choked against the invasive tubing, gagging as they tried to guide it down her throat, and coughed, red splatter on green gowns. She _had_ to stay awake; she _had_ to fight.

"She's bleeding again! Where the—"

Another wave of ice flowed through her body, and overwhelmed her resistance, sweeping her away into darkness.

* * *

"It's done."

"—we can't go back."

"Neither can she."

"—reports on her every—"

"Get some sleep—"

* * *

The sun was warm on her shoulders and she relaxed for the first time in a long while. The lush forest around her was peaceful, and she couldn't find it within herself to muster any wariness about what might be concealed in the thick undergrowth. She moved slowly on the well-worn dirt path through the trees, her red silk gown rustling quietly with every step she took. She didn't know where she was going, or why she was even walking, but there was some reason that kept her moving, a reason she couldn't find the strength to question.

"You are safe here."

She did not flinch at the sudden appearance of a companion, a man in emerald robes, by her side. Instead, she nodded, "I know."

The two of them walked in silence, the sun above them slowly making its path across the sky and the forest thinning out into rolling plains of farms. The dirt track had become a well-travelled road, bounded on either side by deeply dug irrigation canals, filled with water.

"You made a choice," he said gently, not looking at her.

"I did?" she asked, studying his grave expression before she looked back at the road in front of them.

"Yes." He stopped walking and she did as well. "And we will teach you the repercussions of that choice."

"What do you mean?" She turned sharply to face him. Brown eyes met green. He put both hands on her shoulders.

"You are ours, and we are yours," he told her with a reassuring smile before he shoved her backwards.

She slipped on the edge of the road and fell into darkness.

* * *

"You are ours, and we are yours."

The doctor gently squeezed his patient's hand before he let go and stepped away from her bedside, breaking their connection. He looked at the attending nurse and ordered softly, "Alert me if anything happens."

She gave him a half-bow and a verbal, "Yes Rosilun" of acknowledgement, before returning to her duties, carefully adjusting the flow of medications and nutrition into their comatose patient's body. He nodded and walked out of the room. In the corridor, a woman rose from her seat and walked away from the row of chairs placed against the wall. Without speaking to her, he unhooked a chart from its hanger next to the doorway and, taking out a pen, made a few notes. She stepped to his side, studying his expression.

"Well?" she prodded softly after several minutes of silence.

The doctor sighed heavily as he replaced the chart on its hook, tucking his pen into the breast pocket of his uniform. He gestured for them to walk down the corridor, away from the room and the two guards stationed outside the open doorway. With a silent nod, she followed. He studied the empty walls of the hall until he was quite sure they would not be overheard by any others.

"She's stable….For the time being." He grimaced, "I can't say for certain if she will stay that way. Does the Council know what we've done?"

"Yes," she replied, her expression devoid of emotion. Her right hand rested lightly on the hilt of a small dagger tucked in its sheath on her belt. "I can't say that they were happy about it, but she is my responsibility now."

"_Our_ responsibility," he corrected gently. She shook her head, "If she brings harm to us, it will fall on my head alone."

"Cheya…" he sighed, "you weren't the only one to plead her case; we all—"

"If they come," she said abruptly, "can we take action without harming her?"

He nodded, "Yes. The room is tightly shielded. She won't be harmed if they come." His expression darkened, "If what we have done doesn't kill her first."


	2. Interlude

Lighthouse in the Night

By Dragon's Daughter 1980

Disclaimer: Other than being a fan, I have absolutely _nothing_ to do with Stargate: Atlantis in _any_ way, shape or form.

Author's Note: I haven't watched 'This Mortal Coil,' but I am aware of canon events. In terms of spoilers, all I will say is that in this story, Elizabeth is her original self, alive and whole, but not necessarily well. That's going to take a while… I hope you can stick with me through this chapter. It's a little confusing, but it contains bits of exposition to move the story along in the next chapter. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!

Spoiler Warning: _Adrift_ & _Lifeline_

First Interlude

_

* * *

_

Avil _7__th__, 6__th__ year of the D'aile haikoru_

_Dear Mother,_

_How can I start explaining the events of these past few days? Doubtless, you know about the destruction of the Sxden community, a near complete massacre. Four hundred lives: gone, wiped out, just like that; entire families destroyed, as if they never existed among us. I know that they still do walk among us, now in the stars, watching over us with heartfelt prayers for our continued survival and safety. But it is still bitter to tell children, both young and grown, that their parents or their siblings will never darken their thresholds ever again in this life. Even more bitter when it is a parent that must be told their child fell while on circuit. There are few bodies to bury, and the bodies that remain are only silent testimony to the pain and danger we all face. There is no comfort to be found among these stars, Mother. There is only suffering and the sheer stubbornness to cling to the hope that we will survive, and live out long, good, dutiful lives that only brush against anguish and sorrow._

_It is never far from my mind that my haikoru, my community, my people could be the next to fall to the Wraith. Every decision I make as Joilyn is vital to D'aile's survival — where to settle, what Kada watch to set on the Ring, who to help, who to trust… all of it. I am the commander, and the responsibility must rest on my shoulders and no one else's. There are days when it is a lonely position to hold, and the responsibilities seem too much. How can I literally hold the lives and power of every person — from the oldest sage to the newborn babe — of my community in my hands, and not tremble at the strength that I can wield?_

_Beyond that solemn responsibility to protect the members of my haikoru from harm, I also must ensure Cheya's safety, and that of her family as well. If I fail to protect her, I will not have only failed myself, but also our people as a whole. I know this community was formed to protect her, and I have never forgotten that purpose. I still remember the day I spoke to you eight years ago, awed and honored, about the proposal to place the Tal-Dama's life in my hands. I remember how giddy and terrified I was that our princess' life was to be entrusted to my naïve and untested skills. You had nodded at my confession and you told me that I would do my best and it would be enough._

_So I have done my best, but I do not know if it was the right choice. You know that I love Cheya both as my princess and as my sister-in-spirit; and that I would do anything to protect her. She is my Maydalyn, and I trust her to negotiate our alliances with our trading partners and communities without question. She is a skilled diplomat, able to charm or persuade with words and kindness rather than the sword and physical force. She is gentle and compassionate, humble and serving. If she ascends to the throne (the Ancestors will it not be so!), she will be a gift to our people, a just and wise ruler with a kind hand and open heart; I would be honored to have called her Maydalyn D'aile. But she doubts herself now in her decision, and I fear that I rightly doubt along with her. Yet the decision itself…_

_If the situation had not been what it is, if the woman brought to our rosilyns on Talan was a known ally or a simple innocent caught in the crossfire, the decision would have been simple and made without any of the doubts that plague us now. We would have acted and never questioned ourselves, never spared a moment's thought over saving her life, bringing her into our community, sharing our blood, our lives with her. If the woman had merely been human, completely and utterly human, open to our rituals, we would have done what we needed to do to save her without a second thought, welcomed her into our homes like a sister, a daughter, a mother, a friend. Instead, we waited, bickered like children, feared what might be, while her life bled away in front of us, all because we did not know who, or more precisely what, she was and still is. We broke our vows to protect and defend, to welcome and aid all who seek sanctuary and cross our path._

_We almost lost her. And we probably would have had not Cheya finally stepped in and ordered us, with her royal authority and blood, to damn the consequences and the politicking of the Supreme Council and save this woman's life. We did, and she lives, but the doubts, the doubts still trouble us. It haunts Cheya who does not speak of it, but I can see it in her eyes whenever she inquires after the woman's condition. She has done her best to shield all of us from the political consequences of our decision, channeling her fear into anger when confronting those who advocate for this stranger's immediate death. She sees them as traitors to the codes that govern us, and does not hesitate to remind them of their oaths, both to our laws and to herself. I fear she is putting herself at great risk, risks I cannot protect her from no matter how vigilant I am, or how hard I try. But she would not be who she is if she did not do that for a stranger she has never spoken to._

_Who is this woman? What runs in her blood? Whatever it is, it is both hostile to our healing and yet not at the same time. It is as if there are two forces within her, both vying for control over her body, and we are forced to be mere spectators to this battle. We have done our best to ease her pain and heal her injuries — all of which are healing remarkably fast — but it is as if our healing and the results of our doing so are harming her as well. She suffers still, and even Arisn, our chief doctor, is at his wits' end to help her. There are hours when she is tranquil, as if in a deep sleep, and it seems as if she is finally at rest and on the firm road to recovery._

_Then she starts screaming, wordless cries that can only be born from torture at the hands of the heartless. She is defiant, even in her agony, keeping her secrets within her, refusing to yield to whatever power she thinks still holds sway over her. Even when we try to soothe her with soft words and the knowledge that we mean no harm to her, that her captivity, her torment is at an end, that we will lay down our lives to protect her, she will not listen, or perhaps, she cannot hear us. When she finally calms— sometimes minutes, though all too often, hours later — she calls for people, whispers names that we do not recognize, begs for rescue, for release, for death. These are moments I wish we had granted that to her, that we had eased her into a peaceful sleep from which she would have never awoken from. We would have been perfectly justified in doing so, giving her a merciful death. Her injuries — physical, spiritual, and a partial feeding — those would have killed her, and they still might. There is no telling what will be. But what's done is done, and there is no undoing what we have done to her. Her past is over with, no matter how much Carison (one of the people we have taken in) wishes it was otherwise. She cannot return to her people, whoever they are, wherever they are._

_It doesn't make sense. How can the life force of an entire people be poison to another person? But then the doubt comes again, is she human at all? Will she bring even more danger by her presence and acceptance by Cheya and myself? Regardless of her origins, there is the question of what of her family? What will we do if we find them? Will we ask them to join us or let her leave? _Can _we let her leave, given her grave injures? Chances are she will have to stay with us the rest of her natural life, slowly healing from her wounds, if she can ever completely recover. Leaving could kill her. What is her name and where did she come from? Carison has given us a name — Elizabeth — but even he will admit that his memory is still returning in fits and starts. He insists that he knows her, and that he isn't wrong, but… Memories are fragile, and one never knows if they are right or constructed. He might be wrong. As for where she came from, Carison says that she is a friend of his, from their shared home in his past. What more he will not say, and I do not press. Some things are not meant for us to know, and I will not force him into confession. He is too gentle a soul, and too close to all of our hearts for any of us to even contemplate such a course of action. It is also unnecessary in many ways. Carison fears that the rest of his people are dead and gone. He does not know much about the mysterious soldiers who were with her. He says that others like him should have been found with her; she shouldn't have been left alone. So why was she left behind? How did she come into the company of the soldiers we found her with? We are fairly sure that she was among the fighters who appeared and then vanished without warning on Talan, but why did they not take her with them? Why leave her with us? There are too many questions left unanswered for my comfort, for any of our comfort._

_I cannot imagine a society that would sacrifice themselves for mere strangers, yet leave their own to die without a backwards glance. I cannot understand, I suppose, because I know that I could never issue an order like that. As you have taught me, my people have become my family and my heart. Perhaps, I am too harsh, perhaps her people do not know they have left her behind, or they mourn her as dead. Perhaps, they were her captors and tormentors. Perhaps, when she awakens, if she awakens, she will be able to answer all our questions. Perhaps she will be able to silence our doubts, once and for all. Or she may prove our fears true. It terrifies me to think of that prospect, that the split-second decision made by Cheya and supported by myself will kill us all, and I know I can say this because this letter will never make it you._

_I do not know how you found the strength, Mother, to sacrifice yourself. I know I took a vow to do the same, and that if the time should come, I will keep it. I will protect my haikoru with my life, but still, I pray to have the same strength as you Mother, and all those of Sxden who are lost to us now, to end my life before a Wraith feds on me. I hope that I will not be faced with the dilemma of killing this woman, stranger that she is, or watching my haikoru die around me because I refuse to kill the newest member of the D'aile community. I pray it will not come to that, not now, not ever._

_Cheya_ _and I have agreed on strict guards while this woman slumbers and when she awaken, if she awakens. Then we will see. Our people trust us, and support us in all we do, even though they understand what we all risk. Cheya sponsored this woman into our haikoru herself, with her own blood, cut by her own hand. If anything were to happen to her because of this woman… it would affect us all, and lead to a decision I cannot shirk to make. But I will make and carry that decision to its fulfillment myself because I cannot think of the cost otherwise. I cannot thank the Ancestors enough for the people I command and love. They are truly a blessing, and a rarity to be cherished and guarded for as long as I can. I can only swear that I will guide them the best I can, with what wisdom that I have._

_I have to go. The sun rises and soon, the Senior Council will reconvene for more endless debates. Even as the leader, I must take my share of the burdens and shield Cheya as best as I can from the political maneuverings that are a constant on this world. Perhaps the favor of the Senior Council will sway our way after Cheya's sharp scolding last night. Perhaps. Such is the life of a Joilyn, and such is duty of a subject to her princess. With every brush of disaster, life does taste sweeter and dearer with every sunrise and sunset._

_Be with me, Mother, for now and for always,_

_Liya_ _Salijai_

_

* * *

_

In the darkness of their quarters, he laid awake on their bed, staring up at the ceiling while waiting for his wife to come home. He listened to the sounds of the night: their son's quiet breathing as he slept in his cradle, the steady clatter of hooves in the streets as people made their way home, the low hum of conversations being carried on while lovers strolled, the unceasing footsteps of the night guards as they patrolled the lanes and alleyways; the capital world of the Reians never slept. Outside of their rooms, he heard the steady footfalls of their personal sentries, protecting them from disturbance and harm. It was a reassuring and lulling sound to hear, a ceaseless metronomic beat that could easily soothe a person to sleep. To stay awake, he occupied his mind with patients' charts and ailments, pondered possible treatments for their ills, mapped out ways to deal with wounds not only of the flesh, but of the soul and mind.

Without any alarm, he heard the outer door of their suite open and close, the rustle of fabric as his wife unburdened herself both of her vestments and duties. From the weariness in her light footsteps, he could see in his mind's eye the exhaustion that caused her shoulders to slump, the stress lines on her face that aged her far beyond her years, and the veiled longing for escape in her eyes. He knew her day had been long and hard. While others fought to protect their people from harm with swords and pure physical power, she did her work with words and agreements struck in the council rooms, in the parlors, in the streets.

If he had his way, they would leave this place and return to roaming the worlds under the stars with their community, far away and safe from the palace intrigues and maneuverings that had them on guard against any type of threat at all times. But he knew if he proposed the plan, their leaving this place tomorrow, she would dissent. She would tell him that she still had work to do — bargains to strike and promises to secure in order to guarantee the safety of the life of their newest member — before she could even think about giving the order to leave. This was her duty, her path in life. She was born into responsibility; there was no other choice for her. No matter how hard she tried, or how much she wished, she would never find it in herself to turn her back on it.

The door to the bedroom swung open with the faint creak of the hinges and he saw her shadowy figure slip into the room. She moved to her side of her bed, already undoing the buttons of her gray working gown and letting it pool on the floor before picking it up and draping the well-worn fabric over the high back of a chair.

"How did the Senior Council meeting go?" he asked softly, turning on his side to face her. She did not flinch from hearing his voice come out of the silence. She had known he was awake the moment she had entered the room. Instead of responding, she asked a question of her own, "How is she?"

Despite the sudden fear that ran through him at her flat words, he did not comment on her evasiveness, choosing to answer her question instead, "Her fever has not broken. Infection is a strong concern at the moment."

"Is she growing weaker?" His wife pulled her nightgown over her head and deftly did the laces that closed the soft bodice of the dress.

"No," he answered, pulling back the covers for her as she slipped into the bed. "No, she is still holding her own." She lay down next to him, her face turned away, but he had been her husband long enough to know that she was tense and upset. He gently wrapped an arm around her waist and drew her body to press against his. He knew that hounding her to answer would mostly like yield nothing, but she was close to her breaking point and that was when she was most vulnerable to direct questions from those she trusted without question.

"What is it Cheya?" he whispered in her ear. He felt her shudder, tension wracking her body, before she asked in just as soft a voice, "Can she be moved safety?"

"Yes," he breathed, "with the proper precautions."

"Can you get them in place by tomorrow?" she asked in a low, choked voice.

"Cheya?" He let his voice express his alarm rather than try to use words. '_Cheya, sweetheart, what happened? What did they say at Council?_'

She turned around to face him, her body trembling uncontrollably. With his free hand, he touched her cheek in a gentle caress. His fingertips came away wet, and he knew his wife was crying silently. He took a deep breath and willed himself to be calm before asking silently, '_Cheya, what happened? What are they going to do?_'

"Arisn," she whispered, her voice shaking, "do you think I did the right thing?" He did not need to ask what she was talking about; everyone knew about the latest controversy that had engulfed the Reian upper social classes. If Cheya had been no one, an unremarkable diplomat from an ordinary family, no one would have made such a fuss about the initiation of an injured stranger into a Reian haikoru. But Cheya was not an ordinary diplomat, and her every action was scrutinized and critiqued by all.

"Yes," he said firmly, sending a wave of honest reassurance toward her, "you did the only thing you could as a Domina." He felt the air contract around their bed for a moment as his wife sealed off the possibility of unwanted eavesdroppers hearing their private conversation.

'_Liya_ _doubts me,_' she whispered as if unfriendly ears could potentially hear her innermost thoughts, '_though she tries to hide it from me, but I know her well, and she is right to do so._ _If I have made the wrong decision, this will not only kill us, but our people as well._'

'_Shh_…' he soothed gently, '_we made the decision together, as one family, as one haikoru, Liya included. She was the one who supported your decision out in the field. She will not back out of supporting you in front of the Senior Council now. She is responsible for our wellbeing as well. She will not fail to protect you in any way possible from any harm that she foresees._'

'_But even she doubts herself now._'

'_What good leader does not worry about her decisions every now and then? You and Liya are wise and kind; you did what you thought best at the time._'

'_If she… If this woman turns out to be a threat…_' Arisn could feel his wife's anguish as she spoke to him, '_I won't have a choice in what I'll have to do. I…I can't give the order for someone else to carry out, but I can't… I don't think I could do it. I don't think I could kill her Arisn, not in cold blood, not if…not even if she brought harm to us, unwittingly. But I would, and I… it would be murder, murder in cold blood against a helpless woman. But it might…if it comes to that, it would have been better if she died in the first place, if I hadn't given the order to help her… It would have been better for her to have died quickly than to have lived only a few days more in pain and suffering…._' She buried her face in his chest and he held her close, feeling her fear slam into him and willing his voice to remain unaffected before he spoke again.

"If you had let her die on Talan," he spoke aloud into the darkness, "you would have carried the guilt of her death with you. You would still call yourself a murderer because you did not try to save her.

'_At least in this_,' he returned to the silence between them, '_you have fulfilled the codes that you have sworn to uphold, and saved her life. For what little comfort it is worth to you now, there will be no blame from any of us if she becomes a threat that must be dealt with. And Cheya, promise me, that if it turns out she is an innocent soul in all of this that you will not torture yourself with recriminations of wishing her death. She is alive. And that is what you must base your next decisions on, not what was or might be._'

There was a long true silence between husband and wife as she pondered his words, then she spoke silently in a soft voice to him, '_The Senior Council is afraid of her, what she could bring here. They cannot overrule me, but I fear that they will do what they can to undermine me, use this to weaken my support, and sabotage her recovery. They may even use the pretext of guaranteeing my security to kill her without my consent._'

'_They will have to get past our people first,_' he replied calmly. '_You know my rosiluns are devoted to you and to their calling. They will protect their patient at all costs. They will not let anyone through who will harm her. And then there is Carison. I cannot imagine him standing docility by if anyone tries anything. I couldn't have instilled in him a better sense of duty myself if he was D'aile raised and trained. While he doesn't act like it, I can see him taking up a sword to defend her._'

Her mood lightened a bit with amusement, '_And when you put the poor man out of his fretting? You should tell him that the—what did he call them?_'

'_Nanites,_' supplied Arisn playfully, even though he knew she didn't need his help in remembering the term.

'_That the nanites aren't harming her,_' she finished. '_It should stop his worrying at the very least._'

'_The problem is that we don't actually know that for sure. It could be that they are harming her, to some extent, and healing her at the same time. Either way, I would prefer learn from him information that will probably never be useful to us than to be caught off guard in the future. His concern is also a constant reminder that I must be more cautious about what I say, where I say it, and to who. If I had not mentioned the presence of nanites in her blood in his company, he would not be so panicked._'

'_True._'

'_And more than any one of us, he is completely devoted to her wellbeing. He will protect her, no matter what happens between you and the Senior Council. She will be safe in her recovery._'

'_I know,_' she whispered, '_but it won't be long before the Senior Council demands that I order you and your people to step aside and let others have access to her. As soon as they realize Carison's connection to her, I know they will bar him entrance to her. Then… only Dei knows what will happen to her._'

'_Have you spoken to Liya yet about your fears?_' He gently wiped away her tears with slow strokes of his thumb against her cheek.

'_She was there tonight, at the dinner. She knows, perhaps better than I do, what they were thinking and what they are planning. I saw her eyes before we parted for the night. She is uneasy._'

'_Will it cause trouble if we leave tomorrow?_'

He felt her shake her head in reply to his silent query, '_There remains only reports to be filed and that can be done from any planet. We have stayed overlong as well. It will raise no formal protest if we leave. After all, it is too dangerous for one of the succession to be on the same planet as the Tal-Domi for any length of time. The Senior Council will grumble about our departure, but unless they wish to openly break with the codes and my family, they will keep their silence. They will not dare to challenge tradition, not with the loyalist and royalist strongholds here._'

'_Still… it would be better if Liya gives the order to leave, since she is in charge of your safety._'

'_I know._'

'_Cheya?_ _Arisn?__'_ A new voice entered the conversation between husband and wife, respectfully 'knocking' at the mental threshold of the couple's shared connection. Arisn opened the 'door' to let the other woman into the silent conversation.

'_Liya,_' greeted Cheya and Arisn sent a feeling of welcome toward their leader and main protector. Then he quietly retreated to a corner of the discussion, content to listen to the women's planning.

'_Cheya, Arisn,_' said the slightly older woman quietly, '_I have already issued orders for us to leave for Thalla by first light tomorrow. I am sorry for the short notice, but… I do not think it wise for us to stay here any longer. The Senior Council has never acted against you, or any member of the Domina family, but I do not wish to tempt fate and the weaknesses of fearful men._'

'_I agree Joilyn,_' replied Cheya, using Liya's formal title. '_They pay no mind to me when we are gone from here. Hopefully, this time, they will do the same. Arisn says that we can move her if the right precautions are taken._'

'_Do not worry. I have already instructed the rosiluns to prepare her for transport. Everyone else is already packing. I suggest you take a few hours of rest before—_'

'_No need,_' Arisn interrupted, '_I can pack for the both of us. Let me know if there is anything else that needs to be done. Get some rest, the both of you._' Breaking his connection with the conversation, he kissed his wife on the cheek and slipped out of bed, drawing his emerald night robe around him before he left the room. Cheya watched him go and then rolled over to lie on her back, staring up at the ceiling.

'_Tal-Dama, Princess,_' Cheya heard her friend speak hesitantly after a moment, '_I am sorry._'

'_For what Liya?_' she asked softly. '_You have protected me and my family so well for so long._'

'_I should not have doubted you. Not even for a moment._'

'_We both doubt ourselves about what we did on Talan, and perhaps rightfully so. Do not blame yourself for my guilt. I worry too much._'

'_As do I._' The two women shared a long silence, each searching for the right words to express the fears that lurked in the back of their minds.

'_It will be morning soon,_' Cheya finally said. '_Get some rest Liya_'

'_You as well,_' the other woman replied. '_Cadamessa_ _Cheya._'

'_Cadamessa._' Cheya broke off the connection and rolled onto her side, her eyes settling on the cradle and her sleeping firstborn within. So young, so innocent, so unknowing of the political tempest he had been born into and the dangerous worlds he would fight to survive in. She sighed quietly to herself and began to soundlessly recite the old prayers and blessings that her grandmother had taught to her in what little time the elder woman had to spare from her duties as Tal-Domina, Queen of the Reian people. The familiar chants were soothing to Cheya's worried conscience and soon, she slipped off into a deep sleep.

* * *

**Date**: Avil, fourth month of the Trade Calendar, the tenth  
**Location**: Thalla  
**Community-In-Residence**: D'aile  
**Current Status**: Inactive  
**Command Report For**: D'aile haikoru  
**Prepared & Submitted By** Tal-Dama Cheya Domina, Maydalyn of the D'aile haikoru  
**Subject**: Talan

As it is already known to us all, on the fourth day of Avil, the Kada watch on Talan failed in the mid-morning hours. At that hour, the defensive force of the Sxden haikoru, the most recent community-in-residence on Talan, was splintered into four: the sentry watch on the Ring of Ancients, keeping the Kada lantern lit; the farmers in the fields; the gatherers and hunters in the forest; and the town watch in the resident-town.

The Wraith began their culling of the Sxden with the use of Screamers, followed later by foot soldiers. The Kada sentries were the first casualties of this attack — none have survived to give a precise account of the breeching of Talan's security, but it must be noted and their families commended that alarm was given swiftly with the destruction of the Kada lantern from the lookout. Defense was immediately organized, with the children and designated civilians evacuating quickly to the hidden caverns in the forest, while the Sxden defense companies formed and met the Wraith in battle. With aid from various trading parties from other haikorui and protected communities present at the time of the attack, as well as unexpected aid from an unknown source to be addressed later on in this report, the Wraith were destroyed and their remains destroyed accordance to our traditions. However, this was not done without heavy losses.

It is my solemn duty to announce the dissolution of the Sxden community. Over half of the community has been killed in the fighting alone (including those culled), and a quarter more severely injured. The survivors, mostly children, have been fostered into the D'aile haikoru and they will be cared for as if they are our own flesh and blood. At current count, it is believed that for a community of originally over seven hundred, less than a hundred have survived the encounter unscathed. Over two hundred persons have been sent to various haikorui for intensive medical care, though their survival still remains in question. It is unlikely that the Sxden community will return to its place among the wheat-trade circuit for several generations; another haikoru must be brought in without delay to prevent further lapses in the security of the circuit.

With regards to the mysterious warriors who appeared and promptly disappeared on Talan during the course of the culling, there are several major concerns as to their intentions and motivations. Accounts from survivors as well as firsthand observations all agree that these people are enemies of the Wraith. There was no hesitation in their engagement of the Wraith, but there was clear apathy for those injured. They bypassed feeding Wraith, preferring to attack those looking for prey. They also ignored all hails for cooperation from our people, as well as cries for aid. As soon as destruction of the Hive Ship was achieved, these warriors promptly withdrew from the battlefield, leaving our people to end the engagement. There is also the issue of how they came to discover Talan's location since no one beyond our societies know the precise key to activate Talan's Ring. These soldiers may have been trailing the Wraith before they attacked, yet there was a considerable delay between the beginning of the culling and their appearance which raises questions about this assumption.

From field observations, it is summarized that these people are of a highly technologically advanced society. If the old archives can be trusted for accuracy, their clothing and weapons resemble those of the Ancients very closely. They clearly have interstellar capabilities as none of our patrolling vessels arrived at Talan until after the culling had ended, and it is unlikely that the Hive Ship self-destructed without outside aid. Further evidence of this comes from the immediate disappearance of all these people's fighters in flashes of blue-white light from the village and forest.

While these people may become useful allies to our people, it must be noted that, besides a distinct disregard for the welfare of others, there were disturbing reports that these soldiers were invulnerable to the Wraith. Several of the injured recounted situations where Wraith attempts to feed on these mysterious soldiers were unsuccessful, and that these soldiers were nearly indestructible against Wraith strength. There have been no recovery of bodies or injured of these soldiers, (There is one notable exception, which will be addressed in greater detail in a later report.) Such information cannot be dismissed or taken lightly and further investigation, with a great deal of caution, must be undertaken before any formal or informal alliance is established.

In regards to the security of Talan, it is the consensus of the D'aile haikoru that resettlement be deferred for at least one complete cycle of the Trade Calendar, both out of respect for the Sxden community's losses and for further investigation of the security of the planet. The Ring of Ancestors has been locked until further notice; the key will only work for those who hold Domina blood or trust, except in cases of extreme emergencies where immediate evacuation is necessary.

May the Ancestors' blessings be upon us all,  
Cheya Domina

* * *

Fate is a strange thing in this galaxy, and I have given up on predicting what will happen next. One moment you're alive, the next moment you're confused and then you're on a strange planet with no idea who you are, much less where you are. Time has slipped past quickly in the months that I have been with these people, and it amazes me this society that they have created, and the openness, kindness and hospitality they offer to all who need it. For a people who live under the constant shadow of the Wraith, they are unafraid, though wisely cautious in their dealings with newcomers. Yet if anyone comes to them, begging for help, they will lend a hand with nary a question. It is an odd juxtaposition, and a rare quality in this galaxy.

They have been nothing but kind and helpful to me, teaching me things beyond my wildest imagination. They are a community truly bound together in life and in death. You would think after the Wraith, and the daily discoveries made on Atlantis that nothing could surprise me anymore, but these people do. They have brought me into the very heart of their community, a communal heartbeat that runs through each of them — from the oldest elder to the newest babe. It is difficult to explain, but I have 'touched' the network of oaths and blood ties that bind each member of this haikoru together and to their Council, composed of six leaders who represent each of the recognized 'lyns,' families of people – the Joi, Mayda, Rosi, Dama, Tresi and Evei. The power structure here is almost feudalistic or guild-like, yet there are no strict divisions in the social structure. Everyone is free to mingle and marry with anyone, even outsiders. The leaders of these families are well-respected and control most of this community's power; they are good people with good intentions. And although they can be secretive, they have never caused me any alarm.

The rosilyns/rosiluns are the doctors and healers of this community, and it is the closest of I have ever seen of humans who are not attempting Ascension to be able to heal by touch and willpower alone. Rosilun Arisn, the head doctor here, has explained it as 'tapping into the shared lifeblood of the entire haikoru,' taking the extra 'lifeblood' of the healthy and giving it to the sick. It has its risks, ones that are harsher to patient, healer and those around them. Arisn has warned me never to try it without supervision — it is too dangerous, he says, without someone to guide me — patients can still die and healers have died because of complications in the process. After the reeling tragedies of several cullings of other communities, he also explained to me that if the Wraith were to feed on just one person of a haikoru, the entire community could perish without ever being caught by the Wraith themselves. It is a chilling thought. He was quick to assure me, though, that it would not happen to me, regardless of what happened to them. He has mentioned, in the vaguest terms and only in passing, that I will be allowed to return to Atlantis. He has proven to be very evasive about the details about how, or when that might happen. It's a wee bit frustrating, but when I can get him to stay on the subject for more than a second, Arisn tells me that when I leave, the closest of my ties with his people will be broken, though I haven't a clue what that means and he has flatly refused to say more.

Thankfully, though, they have never asked me for the gate address, or as they call it here, the 'key' to the city. Even if they did, I'm not sure I remember it correctly. Avoiding going off-world, I didn't have much reason to and there are still blanks in my memory. They have said from the start that they have no interest in poking into my mind (which is a great relief) and have no interest in any secrets I might have. Considering the circumstances of my 'departure,' I think that even if I did know the gate address, I wouldn't have told them. I don't know what to expect when I return; how does one return from the dead? I understand that I apparently did it, but I honestly don't remember a single thing between walking out of the operating room and waking up under the care of this haikoru's rosilyns and the protection of its Maydalyn.

Maydalyn is their term for diplomat, negotiator, and teacher. The woman who leads this particular 'family' is Cheya D'isle. (I have yet to figure out if D'isle is her family name or if she merely took the name of the community as some orphans and adoptees have done.) She occupies a well-respected position in this community and is second-in-command to Joilyn Liya, the leader of this haikoru. There is something peculiar about the relationship between the two. It's almost like watching John and Elizabeth debating over who has control over what, though John has never blatantly challenged Elizabeth's authority, especially in civilian matters, and had her concede control to him, not the way that Cheya has done to Liya sometimes. They have never done it in public — if anything, Cheya makes sure that nothing undermines Liya's power in front of strangers — but I have occasionally seen the two of them exchange a mere look, and authority in a conversation or a discussion will quickly shift to the other. I have asked Arisn, who shrugs and says that it was complicated, the relationship between his wife and his leader. It seems like there is a secret that everyone knows, except me and the children.

Cheya has taken a strong interest in my safety; I have no idea why, but I know that she was with the hunting party that found me at the bottom of a gully and brought me back to live with her people. Since then, she has taken responsibility for me, I suppose, though no one ever has said so aloud. With her husband, she has at least one child, and is fostering more, including those from the latest disaster on Talan. She refuses to give me many details about the current situation, but I was able to give her a shock at least, once I got over my own.

Elizabeth is here, just a few doors down the hall. I have no clear idea what happened, but clearly something has gone horribly wrong. John, at the very least, would not have let her go off-world, not without protection. From all accounts, she was found injured and alone on Talan, armed yes, but without a single Marine with her. And everyone I've asked who was there that day has said that there were no trading teams on Talan, no one from Atlantis there, ever. I haven't told them about Atlantis, of course, but none of them claimed to remember strangers looking to trade visiting Talan for years. It seems that the Asurans were there instead, fighting the Wraith, which makes me wonder what has happened since I've been gone. Have we allied ourselves with the Asurans as the lesser of two evils? But then what happened to cause them to kidnap Elizabeth and dump her in the middle of a battleground? And from the sounds of it, the nanites in her blood are active again. I don't have the equipment I need to confirm it, just Arisn's perplexed and worried observations that there is something foreign in her blood. I have no way to tell if the nanites are harming her, or even what happened to cause them to be reactivated again, though if she was captured by the Asurans… I may have to assume the worst and say that she is the only survivor and that Atlantis is gone. I don't have Rodney's skills to make an EMP device, much less trigger such a device. For all their skills, these people don't have the technology needed to create something like that. Arisn has also flatly refused to listen to me when I warn him about containment protocols, or anything else about her treatment or medical history. He says that to deactivate the nanites would be the same as killing her. But what if they are killing her, and I am just standing by, letting it happen?

As a doctor, it worries me that Arisn and his staff would put their entire families at risk with their ignorance. He has told me that Elizabeth's situation is entirely different from mine, as if it is a reassurance of some sort. While I came to them confused and concussed, she was dying when they found her. To save her, they were forced to 'take her in,' and I don't think he means just physically providing for her and protecting and treating her. I think he means that her heartbeat has become a part of this community, and they are fully capable to controlling and treating their own. He also told me that that in all likelihood, if she comes out of her coma, and he… he said that it was a strong _if_, that she will probably never be able to return to Atlantis. Whatever they have done, it's irreversible, and I think it has caused a great deal of debate and worry among the D'isle community. I can hear it sometimes in the cadence of their deliberations, the tension that sparks in the town hall whenever the world Talan is mentioned. I don't know. There seems to be so much that I haven't learned from my hosts, and so much that they refuse to tell me. It's frustrating at times, but I can't help but trust them for some reas

Cheya is calling me for supper. I'd better go before she comes upstairs to fetch me herself. The woman never accepts 'no' for an answer, especially when it comes to the health and safety of the people she takes in. Plus, Gavin's been cooped up with me for too long already. I should take him for a long walk before I go sit with Elizabeth this evening; it's only fair to the poor pup.


End file.
